


Your Love is the Compass Rose

by The_RyRy



Category: Dragon Age II, Dragon Age: Origins - Awakening
Genre: Jossed, M/M, Other, Speculation
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-05-10
Updated: 2014-05-10
Packaged: 2018-01-24 04:37:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 6
Words: 10,037
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1591904
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_RyRy/pseuds/The_RyRy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Grey Warden Bethany Hawke receives a satchel from Nathaniel Howe's last known location near the Tear in the Veil. She reads his letters in an attempt to piece together how he met his end and discovers a story much greater than she expects.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> This is my contribution for the 2014 Dragon Age Big Bang. It contains some speculation on the events of Inquisition (and will likely be subsequently Jossed), but I could not get the idea out of my head. 
> 
> Credit for the original idea for this story goes entirely to Iapetusneume. Artwork by Epsi.

“These are some items found from his last known location, Commander,” said Davey as he handed a knapsack to Bethany.

 She took it, the rough burlap material scratchy against her hands. The Warden crest embroidered on the side was smeared with brown blood; the bag smelled like leather and oil and that strange smell of mana that seemed to coat everyone and everything that went near the Tear in the Veil. Reports had come in that Nathaniel Howe had disappeared during his assignment to investigate the Tear, with varying accounts that he was a hero or that he did something reckless -- neither of which sounded particularly like Nathaniel.

 According to the last correspondence she’d received, this knapsack containing his belongings had been found with a note affixed to it indicating that it should be returned to Ferelden.

 “There’s, ah, a folio in there of parchment.” Davey scratched nervously behind his ear. “Didn’t have time to read it, but might be a clue in there about what happened to him, they say.”

 “Thank you, that will be all,” Bethany said. Davey, apparently grateful, left the office in a hurry.

 She set the knapsack down on her desk (yes, her desk now, even if temporarily) and sighed wearily. “Alistair,” she whispered, picturing him in her mind, “why did you have to be sent away? Why is this _my_ responsibility?”

 Bethany touched her fingers to the parchment on the desktop beneath her -- her last letter from Alistair, the contents of which she had memorized. _I don’t doubt they’ll call you soon, too, although I hope not. This place is a horror._ Ser Pounce-a-Lot, the old orange tabby who had adopted her after Nathaniel left, jumped up onto her desk and sat on Alistair’s letter, looking at her expectantly. She reached over and stroked his back, running her fingernails along his spine in the way he liked; he rolled onto his side and purred.

 Bethany sighed and looked back at the knapsack. Steeling herself, she opened it and looked inside. She found the folio, a leather-bound folder containing loose-leaf parchment. Here was the note, in Nathaniel’s handwriting, _Please send my personal effects back to Ferelden to Warden-Commander Alistair Theirin or Warden-Constable Bethany Hawke._

 She frowned. Nathaniel had been the Warden-Commander, and Alistair had been the Constable. Nathaniel couldn’t have been incorrect about their rankings -- he did this on purpose. He knew he wasn’t coming back.

 Why did he send these notes to them? Why not to his sister? Maybe there was something in here that she needed to know, some kind of Grey Warden business. Regardless, Bethany thought, she would send these letters to Delilah when she could.

 She opened the folio and started with the letter on top.

 

 


	2. Letters

1

 

_My dearest Nathaniel,_

  _What can I say? How did this happen? How did I get you drawn into this mess?_

  _I suppose it does not matter, as we are both joined on this path. And Maker’s breath, if it is successful, will anyone ever know?_

  _I know you’re losing time, and I know how frightening that is. The taint that courses in our veins is nothing compared to that, to feeling like you are losing your very hold on your own body. When Justice and I became one, at the beginning I was in a state of perpetual disarray. I couldn’t let go. I couldn’t find the space in the back of my -- our -- mind that was my own. I went blank. Those nightmares we have when we’re trapped underground, and the sound of the Song in your ears... I know that what you are experiencing isn’t the same, but I understand, for what it’s worth._

  _I don’t even know how I got here. My memory of it is lost in Justice, in the Taint. That hole in the Fade may be our best chance, though. Perhaps Justice was driving me to the right spot. I can only hope this ends soon, for his sake. Perhaps that is inconsiderate of me._

  _The cause of the mages is of course close to my heart, but this is so much bigger than this war. Our friend, our Justice, I corrupted him. They always taught us that justice must be tempered with mercy, and I had none; I made him into Vengeance with my fear and loathing and anger. And now the Fade is imbalanced, the demons, the tears, and I worry about the spirits… where Justice might have helped, now he can’t, and he caused this._

  _No. We caused it. I had no idea that our actions would have this effect. Everything comes back to Kirkwall._

  _My love, I started this letter to give you this tangible thing, something to touch to remind you of me, but here I am explaining and justifying myself. It’s hard to say these things sometimes. Writing comes easier, even when it’s done by starlight, hiding in the dark. At least this way I can’t be confused by my own hands._

  _I can only hope you don’t regret what you’ve done._

  _Yours,_

_Anders_

 

Bethany stared at the parchment blankly, then briefly leafed through those underneath it. She saw Nathaniel’s writing and another she didn’t recognize.

 “Anders and Nathaniel,” she said out loud to Ser Pounce. She remembered being with Nathaniel in the Deep Roads under Kirkwall, and the expressions on his face and Anders’s when they had met; she had been distracted by her brother, unwilling to face him and still stuck in her own bitter experience of joining the Wardens. She would have seen it otherwise, she thought. “Of course he still loved Nathaniel, even after all those years. _Of course.”_

 Ser Pounce meowed blandly at her and started washing his face.

 “But what was Anders doing there?” she asked of no one, wishing that she had Alistair to field these questions. She took out a blank sheet of parchment and started writing notes on it, hoping to save them for when Alistair came back.

 

_-Anders looking for a tear in the Fade -- to take Justice home?_

_-Nathaniel joined him somehow?_

_-If Anders is at the tear, where is Nathaniel?_

 

She sighed, tapping her fingers on the parchment briefly as she thought through what she knew about the situation. She knew that there had been a Tear in the Fade, and that an army was amassing under the banner of the Inquisition to deal with the invading force of demons coming through it. Nathaniel had gone first, taking Velanna and a contingent of Wardens from Ferelden. Only a couple of weeks after he had left, an urgent missive had arrived for Alistair, asking him to gather what forces he could and meet Nathaniel and the Weisshaupt and Orlesian Wardens at the Tear. Alistair had left Bethany in charge of the Keep, which had been under small but constant assaults from small bands of Darkspawn breaking away from the Architect’s hold.

 Davey and his contingent had returned with little news except for “We woke up and the Tear was gone and the First Warden bade us go back and spread the news.” Bethany turned the page to the next letter in Nathaniel’s folio, hoping to find some answers.

  


_ 2 _

 

_Anders,_

  _I feel as though my entire body is on fire, yet everything seems brighter and more vibrant. The sun, the moons, the stars, even the green of the trees and the blue of the water reflecting the sky. Is this how you saw the world?_

  _You say justice must be tempered with mercy. Is that an aphorism or is it truth? The greatest mercy of my life came from the greatest upheaval, and this mercy is what brought me to you, to Justice. Do you remember those days? The four of us, camped in the Wending Wood or slogging through the Blackmarsh to kill darkspawn. Those days seem an eternity ago, and yet they are fresh again now that we are together. Would that Elissa were still here to show us again what mercy is, so that it may help Justice._

  _She could have killed me. She probably should have. Yet she let me free, gave me what she could find of my family’s things. I didn’t understand it then, and so her mercy haunted me. What chance had I been given? What was I supposed to do with it? I had never once been shown mercy in my life, and when I saw it that first time, I hadn’t the faintest understanding of how to accept it._

  _Now you and Justice too have been shown a mercy. You should have been killed in Kirkwall for what you did, and yet, you were spared and let go just as I was. How did you come to me? How did you find me? --_

 

As Bethany read, the lines had gradually become more and more jagged, which was unlike Nathaniel. The next two lines of this letter were completely illegible, the ink smeared in places and the letters folding in on each other. She looked up at Pounce, thinking -- was Nathaniel injured? Was it difficult to write?

 A sudden realization hit her. “Wait,” she said out loud to Pounce after a moment of contemplation. “Why did Nathaniel have _his own_ letter to Anders?”

 Pounce yawned, and Bethany knew she would receive no answer. Maybe, she thought as she tried to puzzle out any of the words in the illegible section, this was one of those letters that were written but never sent. Giving up on reading Nathaniel’s jagged words, she noted this question on her sheet of notes:

 

- _Why does N. have letters written by himself?_

 

She was getting more questions than answers from Nathaniel’s folio of parchment, but there were many letters to read yet. She resumed reading where the script became legible again.

 

_Episodes like that overwhelm me. I still don’t know how to handle them. But I understand now what Justice was feeling. I understand that you were looking for what I found -- how to accept and understand mercy. Maybe what Anders says is right and not just an aphorism. Can this knowledge temper you, my friend? I doubt that I am so strong of heart and soul as you claim, but I have done this thing to help you._

  _I thought Anders was -- I can barely stand to write it. I thought he was gone, and although I tried to find the strength, I thought I would never see him again. That may yet be true in some ways, but I thought I was honoring his wishes and yours, Justice. I had no idea that he would be here, with you, with me in this place. How am I so lucky to find him, and to find you, again?_

  _I will do what I can. I must rest. I can feel another dark time coming._

  _All my heart,_

_Nathaniel_

 

Bethany was feeling a headache from her furrowed brow. She remembered how happy Nathaniel had been to see Anders when they had met up in the Deep Roads near Kirkwall. Once Bethany had learned that Anders and Nathaniel had been lovers, they had talked about him and Bethany had shared what she knew of Anders’s life in Kirkwall. Consequences had brought them to Kirkwall when the Chantry had been destroyed, where they learned what Anders had done -- but Garrett had _told_ them that he’d let Anders go and that he had fled the city after the battle.

 Nathaniel knew that. It was not too long afterwards that news of the Tear had reached them on their way back to Ferelden.

 She wrote in her notes:

 

_-Why would N. think A. is dead?_

 

She tapped the quill against her chin and re-read the last part of the letter after the jagged handwriting. These “episodes” that Nathaniel mentioned were the clue and gave her an idea of what must have happened to him. She shook her head, meeting Pounce’s eyes as he rested his head on his paws on her desk. “He was getting close to his Calling, I bet,” she said, writing this same note on her parchment:

 

_-N. to his Calling?_

 

“That’s what Stroud said it was like,” she explained out loud to Pounce. “You feel like you lose control of yourself, the Song gets loud in your mind. I wonder if that’s what Anders meant by ‘losing time’ in the first letter.”

 Pounce closed his eyes and yawned.

 “I’m glad you’re here, Pounce,” she said, reaching over and petting him. “It helps to have company when doing hard things like this.”

 He purred at her as he nuzzled her hand, and she reached for the next letter.

 

3

 

_My dearest Nathaniel,_

  _It is a strange thing to be in the dark. I can feel you all around me, sense you nearby, but I don’t know where to go. I have a place here, in the dark, my mind mercifully quiet without the Song. I still hear it a little bit, of course, but everything else is so different and loud that I can forget about it for a while. Even Justice sounds different here._

  _We’ve changed, both of us. For so long, my voice was laced with his, and his thoughts sounded like my own. Now I feel like we are more separate than we have ever been -- when we were in the same body, of course. I can tell where the lines are that divide me from him, which is a relief, because for years I felt like I was losing pieces of myself. Perhaps this change is due to your influence -- and it can only be a good thing._

  _I don’t usually like the dark. It’s claustrophobic. That’s why Justice and I fought each other in the beginning -- I hated it when he took over because I was pushed back into my own mind, a prisoner in my own body with someone else controlling my hands and legs. And my mind was so dark and full of the poison of my past, the memories I tried to forget, the abuses I suffered and pushed away…_

  _No wonder he became corrupted, living as he did in the dark places in my mind. It’s my fault for not wanting to go there, for pushing him into those places that I was too scared to go. If only I had faced them like you have, maybe he wouldn’t have been_

 

The writing style changed to a new script, one Bethany didn’t recognize. It looked a bit like Nathaniel’s handwriting, but blockier and with sloppiness that Nathaniel would never stand for.

 

_It is not your fault, my friend. It is the nature of Justice to shine light into the consequences of our lives, of both our actions and what has been done to us. It was unavoidable._

 

The letter ended there, and Bethany could feel her hands shaking as she reached forward to touch the dried ink. These words did not belong to Anders, nor to Nathaniel; the different script only meant that they had to belong to Justice.

 She sat back in the chair and searched her memory for a fragment of a conversation she’d had with Anders in Kirkwall. They had been sitting on the rooftop of Gamlen’s hovel, sharing memories of Ferelden with Garrett who had been feeling a bit homesick.

 

“At least here we can get a nice-looking set of boots,” Bethany said, showing off her tall brown boots that she had found in the Red Irons’ storehouse.

 “Those boots are too big for you,” Garrett teased her.

 “I’m happy to shove padding in the toes just so I don’t have to wear fur-lined boots.” Bethany wrinkled her nose at Garrett. “Great for keeping warm and quite practical, but sometimes a girl just wants to look nice.”

 “You should ask Isabela to find you a pair of boots,” Garrett suggested, raising his eyebrow at her.

 Bethany looked over to Anders, ready to ask where he had gotten his with the fancy silver rings, but noticed that his eyes were glowing softly. It was just a glimpse and happened for just a moment, and then he shook his head.

 Garrett had noticed this as well. “Talking to Justice?”

 Anders looked up warily, but Bethany smiled at him. “Your eyes were glowing for a moment there,” she explained.

 He had put his hand in front of his face as if shielding them from the sight of Justice in his body. Bethany had wished -- she always did -- that he wouldn’t do that. “He liked the furry boots,” Anders finally explained. “Justice had a body once, a corpse of a Grey Warden who had been killed in precisely the wrong -- or right -- spot. So Justice once wore his own armor, and he liked the boots.”

 “Why?” Bethany wondered.

 “He liked the way they felt around his feet,” Anders continued, and his voice modulated ever so slightly. He seemed far away, and Bethany wondered where he went. “The feeling of fur made him wonder about the experience of being an animal in the wild. He was fascinated by every human custom, and thought that us wearing fur in our boots meant that we wanted to be like the animals.”

 “That’s barbaric,” Garrett said with a laugh. “It means we kill the animals and take their fur to protect ourselves, since we don’t have any.”

 “Is that _less_ barbaric?” Bethany said, rolling her eyes. Then she looked at Anders, who was looking at his own boots. “Does Justice miss having his own body?”

 “Yes,” Anders had whispered, and she had thought he sounded scared. “He got used to being in control. I don’t like it when he’s in control, and we haven’t quite resolved that yet.”

 “You can’t just switch peacefully?” Bethany had wondered.

 Anders had shaken his head. “Justice does everything through me. I read and write the words for him, he just voices them in my mind.”

 He had flexed his fingers and looked so sad that Bethany had reached over and touched his wrist fondly; he had startled, and promptly excused himself to go back to his clinic.

 

 Bethany sat up straight, trying to returning her focus to the present time. “Maker’s breath, was that really almost ten years ago?” she said out loud, rubbing her eyes with the back of her hand. Pounce blinked his eyes open and regarded her steadily. “I’m getting old, Ser,” she said to him.

 He huffed, and she realized that he was probably older than she was if one believed what some people said about ‘cat years’.

 She looked back at the letter and what she believed to be Justice’s handwriting, tapping at the paragraphs above that Anders had written. “I thought you said he didn’t write,” she said to Anders, as though he were still present in those words.

 Putting quill to parchment, she wrote in her notes:

 

_-J taking over A’s body_

_-J writing_

_-N ‘influence’ on A/J separation?_

 

That was an interesting section, too -- she scanned the words Anders had written about feeling Nathaniel all around him but not being able to go to him. That was something she was familiar with -- Bethany, too, could feel the Grey Wardens all around her, as well as the Darkspawn when she was underground. It could drive a person mad sometimes, and she suspected that it was worse for Anders and Nathaniel who, according to Nathaniel anyway, had been Joined from the same cup and with the same blood. Had they been drawn to their Callings together because of that?

 Maybe the Song, as the elder Wardens called it, had drowned out Justice’s voice for Anders.

 She pictures the two of them together in the Deep Roads, circling each other but unable to find the other, stumbling upon letters left--

 But wait, that didn’t make any sense. How did the letters get to each other if they didn’t know where they were? Why did Nathaniel have his own letters? She shook her head and spoke out loud to Pounce again. “This is a mystery, Ser Pounce. What were they _doing_ and why weren’t they together if they were both in the same place?”

 Pounce meowed boredly at her and shifted position to lay his head on the knapsack. Bethany turned the page to the next letter.

 

4

 

_Anders,_

  _You know I don’t mind going to the mages. I know how important it is to you, and it actually is part of the mission of the Grey Wardens here. We seem to be uniquely capable of handling this horde of demons that seem so intent on getting to your apostates. If I can help you, or them, then it is what I must do._

  _Although, do they know what’s going on? Are they able to sense Justice? You assured me once that no, only the finest of Spirit Healers could possibly begin to sense the spirits, but here we are with all of the mages in Thedas; it seems there must be a Spirit Healer among them who could detect this._

  _I sense that you’re nervous about this. We’d have to go through them to get to the Tear anyway -- they’ve been called here to try to close the rift. The combined power of all the mages in Thedas, especially the apostate ones, might be able to save this world. I know it exposes them to the templars, and having all mages in one place is risky, but that’s why we are there to protect them, right? I will go. Alistair is bringing the reinforcements from the Free Marches and Nevarra. The Wardens will protect them; it is our place to guard this world from the dark, evil things, and if we can do that best by protecting those closing their portal, then that is what we will do. Maybe it will give Justice the chance he needs as well._

  _The Tear is affecting everyone. Velanna’s eyes seem to blaze with power with the Tear nearby, and is it just me, or is her magic getting even stronger? I think she knows something’s wrong. Maybe she senses you and Justice, but she’s got bigger things to worry about with the decimation of the plantlife in this area and the way the dead trees seem to come to life with all the unholy energy around here. She talks of staying behind to rehabilitate the land, and I would do the same thing if I had her talents._

  _Why do I write this? You already know all of this, you know what’s going on. I’m just looking for distractions so I don’t have to think about the things that keep me up at night. Maybe I’m writing this so if anyone finds these letters, they’ll know what we did here, they’ll know this story._

  _The strangest thing about our situation is that I haven’t slept well. When the sky is pouring out demons I shouldn’t be complaining about losing sleep, but that is when I experience the most disorientation. I feel like my mind sleeps but my body does not. The nightmares are gone, replaced only with darkness. But when I wake… how do you get used to never sleeping alone? I feel surrounded all the time._

  _It has been too long since I slept in the barracks surrounded by soldiers, I think. Perhaps the individual room at the Keep has made me soft. Would that even matter now? Could anything in this world have prepared me for this?_

  _I write so that you may see this with your eyes, to have a reminder of me. I cannot send you gifts, I cannot touch your hand or your cheek, so I write these words for you as something tangible. Think of it as me putting my arm around your waist and pulling you close. How I miss touching you--_

  _\--well, that was unusual. You’ve shown me, again, that you know more about these things than I do._

  _Yours,_

_Nathaniel_

 

Bethany could barely finish reading before she flipped Nathaniel’s letters over and looked at Alistair’s letter to her. The mention of Alistair in Nathaniel’s letter gave her a clue and let her make the connection.

 

_Dearest Bethany,_

  _A quick letter from the border of the Free Marches and Nevarra. I’ve gathered what forces I can of those Wardens left in these areas, and we are escorting the last of the Circle mages._

  _You will likely receive a summons from the First Warden as well, although that depends on what we do here. This might well be a suicide mission, and if it is, then likely those few Wardens left in each country will most likely be the ones to muster the defense. You may have to cash in on our deal with the Architect for help._

  _No pressure, right?_

  _I should have brought you anyway, damn what the summons said. They need all the mages they can get to close this portal. But you’re so young yet, and most of us are close to our Callings. Oh well, I’m used to making bad decisions, but I sure could use one of your hugs right now._

  _I don’t doubt they’ll call you soon, too, although I hope not. This place is a horror. The Tear is huge -- I can see it from here -- and scary looking. I feel like I should be running away from it, but foolishly, I keep moving towards it._

  _I will write again._

  _All my love,_

_Alistair_

 

That letter was the last she’d received from Alistair. From Davey’s report, they had been victorious and were on their way back, but she couldn’t help the worry that settled in her gut. Anytime they traveled -- or at any time of any day, really -- they could be in danger. Alistair could be gone and she wouldn’t know it.

 She rose and looked out the window of the office at the sky, squinting. She was desperately trying to shake the worry by getting her mind on other topics. The Tear had been far away, although when Alistair had received the summons, she thought she could see it glowing at night.

 Bethany tried to put together what she knew about the Tear from these letters and the reports from Alistair and Davey and some other news she’d heard. Mages had come from all across Thedas to try to seal the Tear. Anders had come there, probably with the army of apostates created in the aftermath of Kirkwall, to help; the Grey Wardens were assigned to protect the mages, and Nathaniel was with them, along with Velanna. Alistair had been sent to gather Warden support and escort Circle mages from the Free Marches and Nevarra.

 That would explain, in a way, why Nathaniel and Anders were separated and sending each other letters. Perhaps Nathaniel was with the Warden contingent and Anders was with the mages and they were communicating through these letters across the battlefield. She drummed her fingers on her arm, thinking about Anders trying to convince the rebel mages to team up with the Circle mages for the good of their world. She smiled, remembering how he would basically preach to her and to Hawke, how he would get riled up and speak at length about mage rights and basic freedoms, and how eloquent and beautiful he was…did he do the same for these mages, perched on a tall rock as their leader, shouting encouragement with wild eyes?

 She found herself smiling. Where was Varric? she wondered as she turned the pages to read the next letter. This would be a great story for him to tell.

 

5

 

_My dearest Nathaniel,_

 

Bethany immediately noticed that the words on this letter were smeared, as though it had gotten wet; the script was not illegible in most places, but was certainly far more difficult to read. She took her time, sorting through every one of Anders’s words that she could.

 

_That dream from last night was beautiful. It was almost as if we were together again in that clearing outside the Wending Wood, with the wildflowers in bloom and the wild critters running amok in the grasses. Justice is teaching me to manipulate the Fade in our downtime, and since I can touch it too now, apparently, I can better change the surroundings._

  _And when I met you there, there was only one place I could think of to take you. Ser Pounce chasing butterflies as we lay on the grass in the warm sun --_

  _Even Justice, I think, found it pleasing and healing. I certainly did._

  _Do you understand now, my love? The kindness you showed me, the friendship, the companionship, the gentleness; you gave me love the likes of which I had never thought to experience, and that has guided me ever since. You taught me how to live in this world, although I don’t think you knew it. Even when everything becomes dark and when I think I am lost, your love is the compass rose, giving me direction, helping me find meaning._

  _Things are darker now, but I am content and safe now that I have direction. You have given me that. You have been the one steadfast thing in my life, even when we were separate, I could always count on my memories of you and my love for you to keep me grounded. Even when I saw the most horrific things, did the most horrific things, I thought of you._

  _That must sound strange to you, and probably offensive. I mean that I knew that there was something good in this world as long as you were in it._

 

Here, the words were particularly smeared, and Bethany found herself tilting the page fruitlessly to try to make the reading easier. She couldn’t make out most of the sentence that followed, and she frowned at the splotches that went down the page, trying to piece together what Anders’s love letter might have said.

 

  _\--rehabilitate Justice. That is what it will take, someone steady, someone with a clear conscience and a resolve that can only come from having suffered hardship and come through the other side with mercy and forgiveness._

  _\--your soul now, and he and I are both blessed to be able to find this peace._

  _All my love, and my dreams as well,_

_Anders_

 

“Ser Pounce,” Bethany said to the cat as he rolled over on her desk. She reached over and scratched his ears. “I had no idea Anders loved him so much.”

 Ser Pounce purred and closed his eyes happily.

 “You would know, wouldn’t you?” she said to him. “You’re Anders’s cat, you probably watched all this happen. Even that time in the field he mentioned, and apparently re-created in a dream.”

 Ser Pounce had no response for that, just more happy purring and nuzzling into her hand.

 “Yet I remember him making a pass at my brother,” Bethany said as she rubbed Pounce’s back. “If he loved Nathaniel that much…” She looked down at Alistair’s letter again and sighed. “I guess there is a great difference between sex and love.”

 Bethany gazed at her sheet of notes. What did she have to write now? Justice and Anders seemed to be becoming _more_ powerful if they were able to manipulate the Fade, which was a frightening thought given how talented Anders had been when she’d known him. She thought about Feynriel, the Dreamer mage she’d met in Kirkwall, and wondered if Anders was learning some of those techniques for reshaping the Fade.

 She turned the page to the next letter, hoping to hear more about the dreams.

 

 

6

 

_Anders,_

  _First, my apologies for ruining your last letter. The things you wrote, the memories you conjured with your dreams -- I found it impossible to hold back. The mages say that being touched by a spirit makes a person feel emotions more strongly. Has Justice touched me? Is that why I cannot hold back these feelings I have for you, for our world, for my duty?_

  _If only someone had encountered me, a weeping mess. What would they have thought? I am fortunate that I encountered an unexpected bit of privacy._

  _I loved the dream that you sent for us to share. I don’t know how you did it, but I’m guessing it has to do with our unusual situation, as well as the Fade being so close and torn open nearby. Your words on this paper are something tangible for me to touch and to be reminded of you, but to actually feel you and hold you again -- as much as anything in the Fade is an actuality. It felt real, and with Justice and you nearby, I knew this was no work of a demon even though they surround us._

  _I am shocked that we have managed to hold back the demons. Perhaps it is something about the Taint that makes them afraid of us, but to see them shy away when I walk by is uniquely satisfying. Or is that Justice? Are you exerting an influence on the area? Are demons even afraid of spirits?_

  _There is so much I don’t know, and it seems that I will not have the time to learn it. I am still not sure how I am supposed to rehabilitate Justice, as you say. I am just a man with the Taint in his veins and a bow in his hands; who am I, compared to these multitudes around me? You say it is my experience and my memories, but many of them are the ones that Justice shares from his time as Kristoff. Again, these are things that I cannot learn, as I do not know the ways of the spirits to the extent that you do. In fact, I only really know what Justice told me years ago, and what you both tell me now._

  _Everyone is moving now; I think the battle has come to us again. Please, if you can, let us dream together again tonight -- when the time comes that I can find rest from this battle. We hold strong for now and will be stronger yet when Alistair and the rest of the mages arrive._

  _All my love,_

_Nathaniel_

 

Bethany leafed through the pages looking for her notes. Once she found her parchment, she quickly scribbled a note to herself:

 

_-Are demons afraid of spirits?_

_-Rehabilitate Justice?_

_-N. touched by a spirit?_

 

She tapped the quill against the desk in thought. She had heard rumors of a report from Orlais that someone had discovered a cure for tranquility that involved the spirits reaching across the Veil. Is that what Nathaniel was referring to? Or was it Justice communicating with him through dreams?

 There was the other question of whether demons were afraid of spirits. She remembered Justice (and Anders) being quite adamant about the difference between the two -- in face, Justice had seemed quite offended to have been compared to a demon. But Merrill had said they weren’t all that different.

 Bethany sighed and, not for the first time, wished she had spent more time with Merrill talking about magic and spirits during her time in Kirkwall. They had spent too much time trying to teach her about city culture and about how to play Wicked Grace, and not enough time on the important things.

 Pounce meowed at her again, and Bethany smiled at him. “What _are_ the important things anyway?” she asked the cat. “Is a card game somehow less important than theories of spirits and demons?”

 Her answer was a rumbling purr, and she rubbed Pounce’s belly for a moment before moving on to the next letter.  

 

7

 

_Nathaniel, my love,_

  _It is so easy to coax you into the Fade. You are lucky you are not a mage and I am not some Desire demon out for your mind and body; I would have had you in my clutches in an instant._

  _I suppose I still did._

  _To answer your question -- yes, Justice has touched you, and yes, things like emotions might seem brighter and stronger to you now. That is what we were warned of as Spirit Healers, and that is what happened to me when I went to Kirkwall. With Justice always with me and in my physical body, I felt everything much more keenly. All of the terrors of my past and the horrors of the treatment of the mages in Kirkwall -- I believe it was that amplified emotion that took me down the path I walked. I could have never done it before Justice, I would have been too scared, and the emotions and abuses blocked out to spare myself. Justice made that impossible._

  _I hope that you are having a pleasant experience of it, at least. I do think this devotion looks good on you._

  _I hear whispers among the mages that there is an energy focus behind the Tear. It reminds me of those Tears in the Blackmarsh; there must be an apparatus on the other side that is blocking them from closing it. But how to get to it? The Tear is in the sky -- one would have to be able to fly. If only the Wardens still had their griffins, hm? That would certainly make it easier. Perhaps you can convince Velanna to summon one of her giant trees; you would have to do the convincing there, she does tend to listen better to your suggestions than mine._

  _Or could Justice and I get to it from the Fade? Would it even work? We had to physically touch the ones in the Blackmarsh, so it might not work in dreams…_

  _I am just rambling, putting my thoughts on paper. You are the Warden-Commander, and so I trust that you will make the right choice, but if we can go through, then Justice could, possibly, go home._

  _I love you,_

_Anders_

 

“Bethany?”

 Bethany jerked her head up to look towards the door. “Davey,” she said to her visitor, who had poked his head inside her door.

 “You must’ve been really into that letter,” he said apologetically, watching Ser Pounce-a-Lot as he leaped off the desk and sniffed Davey’s boots. “I was just wondering if you wanted any dinner.”

 Bethany’s jaw dropped. “Did I miss dinner?” she asked, looking out the window. The sun was gone, the sky a sea of stars and twilight. How many hours had she been reading?  

 “Yes ma’am,” he replied. “We didn’t see you, and I figured it was on account of those letters. It may be the middle of the night, but there was still some food left.”

 Bethany sighed. “Yes, please, have some sent up here, if you don’t mind.”

 “I, ah, may have already asked for that,” he said, opening the door wider. One of Cook’s assistants, Mariah, carried in a tray for her, piled high with baked potatoes and slices of cured ham and biscuits. On the side, ostensibly for dessert, was what looked like a spiced apple cake. There was also a carafe of mulled wine, which was her favorite.

 “Thank you both,” she said as Mariah set the tray down. “I didn’t realize how hungry I was until I saw the food.”

 Mariah smiled. “Isn’t that always the way?” She bowed her head and left quickly. Davey bowed to Bethany and followed suit.

 Bethany’s stomach growled as she brought the plate of ham and potatoes to her desk. She folded a slice of ham inside of a biscuit, then tore off a small piece of the ham and fed it to Ser Pounce-a-Lot, before continuing onto the next letter.

 

8

 

_Anders, my love,_

  _I can’t believe it has come to this. I can see the forces, all of the demons they say live in the Fade, everything from our nightmares. They’re overrunning everything._

  _What will they do to this world? If the Darkspawn can cause the Blights, destroy the land we live in, steal our people and corrupt our minds and bodies, what will these powerful demons do?_

  _This plan is a mad one, but what about this world isn’t mad? Grey Wardens drinking tainted blood to find our enemies, leaping upon the backs of dragons and archdemons to slay them, foraying into underground tunnels, making deals with our enemies…_

  _It’s no use thinking about this any longer. The plan may be a mad one, but it is the best we have. We are the best this world has._

  _This is one last adventure, the three of us. All we need is Elissa to make this like the old days. You with your magic, Justice with his sword and shield, my arrows, and her daggers… perhaps we will see her again when we go to the Fade. Perhaps there will be three of us again, instead of just one._

 

Bethany stopped cold reading that word. “Just one?” she asked, touching the word in Nathaniel’s handwriting. “Wouldn’t there be two? Nathaniel and Anders?”

 She met Ser Pounce-a-Lot’s gaze from his spot on her desk.

 She touched her quill to her notes, looking back through everything she had written so far.

 

_-Anders looking for a tear in the Fade -- to take Justice home?_

_-Nathaniel joined him somehow?_

_-If Anders is at the tear, where is Nathaniel?_

- _Why does N. have letters written by himself?_

_-Why would N. think A. is dead?_

_-N. to his Calling?_

_-J taking over A’s body_

_-J writing_

_-N ‘influence’ on A/J separation?_

_-Are demons afraid of spirits?_

_-Rehabilitate Justice?_

_-N. touched by a spirit?_

_-Three instead of one?_

 

“Maker’s breath,” she whispered, looking at what she had written. “No, he couldn’t have.”

She flipped back through the letters, looking again over their words, at the places where the writing had changed. She noticed something quite suddenly.

 “All of these letters are written on the same parchment,” she whispered out loud. “All with the same color ink. _Why does Nathaniel have letters written by himself?”_

 Her eyes caught on the first letter where Nathaniel had his ‘episode’, as he had called it. The jagged lines, understanding what Justice was feeling… then in the next letter, Anders being in the dark, surrounded by Nathaniel…

 “He’s dead,” Bethany whispered in awe. “Anders is dead. _That’s_ why Nathaniel thought he was dead, because he _was_ dead. And that’s what happened.”

  _Your love is the compass rose,_ Anders had written in his letter about rehabilitating Justice. Bethany wiped tears from her eyes. “He found Nathaniel and asked him to help with Justice. He must have been successful,” she whispered. “And this--”

 She turned over Nathaniel’s last letter without reading the rest of the words. The next sheet of parchment was blank.

 “No,” Bethany said out loud, leafing quickly through the remaining sheets. They were all blank. “No! Damnit, Nathaniel, where’s the end of the story?”

 She turned back to Nathaniel’s last letter, holding her handkerchief to her eyes with her free hand. She read his last written words.

 

_Whatever happens, if anyone finds these letters, know that I did this for love. Not to help the world, although that’s certainly a beneficial outcome. It is the right thing to do, but right for us, not out of duty._

  _Maker help us if we are successful, finding ourselves in the Fade among a horde of demons._

  _Anders, should you read this, know that this is a fitting end. We go together, just as we began; although, perhaps appropriately, you got a head start on me. If this is what I was meant to do, then I do this with an open heart. I love you, both of you, and I hope we’ll always be together._

  _Nathaniel Howe, Arl of Amaranthine_

_Warden-Commander of Ferelden_

 

Bethany found herself overcome with grief, for Anders and now Nathaniel who had apparently gone to his death. She sat back in her chair and looked at the ceiling, then out the window into the darkness of night. Ser Pounce walked across her desk and jumped on her lap, nuzzling her stomach before curling up into a ball on her thighs.

 It wasn’t long before she found tears streaming down her cheeks again. She choked a sob, covering her face with her handkerchief. On her lap, Ser Pounce-a-Lot purred comfortingly and reached up a single paw to touch her elbow.

 Bethany reached down and picked him up into her arms and wept into his fur.

  



	3. End

It was the strangest feeling, looking down on herself asleep in the chair at the desk. Her head was resting against the back of the chair and Ser Pounce was asleep on her lap. The letters were spread out over the desk, and her notes were prominently set on top. She must have cried herself to sleep, she thought, either that or--

 “Bethany.”

 The voice was entirely unfamiliar to her -- was this a demon come to torment her in her sleep? She turned to face it but when her eyes scanned the form, she felt a pang of the familiar.

 “We’ve met,” the spirit said. “Though I think I must look different to you now.”

 His nose, his eyes, his hair, his body -- she recognized Anders, then Nathaniel, then someone else entirely. He was dressed oddly in a close-fitting set of mail armor without the helm or gloves, which was odd to see on the body of Anders or Nathaniel, but he looked like both of them and neither at the same time. He was wearing fur-lined Ferelden-style boots, which made her smile.

 “Justice?” she wondered out loud, and he nodded. “You look--”

 “Like my hosts,” he finished for her.

 She digested what he’d said. “Your hosts?” She paused. “Plural, then. I must have been right.”

 “I’ve been watching you read the letters,” he said, and in that moment he sounded painfully like Anders. “You surmised correctly, but they both asked me to tell you what happened.”

 “Anders and Nathaniel, you mean,” she said, looking at him closely. His body was built like Nathaniel’s, tall and strong at the shoulders, but his face was Anders’s, with that iconic nose and those dark brown eyes. There was a golden hoop earring in his right ear and a shining blue ring on his finger. “What _did_ happen?”

 He smiled at her -- and that smile was Nathaniel’s through and through -- and then beckoned her to follow him. She stepped forward warily, for no one knew what could happen to even the ground beneath you in the Fade.

 They walked through the back wall of the office, and then the world shifted and they were in a ravaged place. She couldn’t help but think of the letters where Anders had created a dream for Nathaniel -- and now suddenly that made _sense_ , for Anders was inside of Nathaniel’s mind and could share his dreams.

 This was no peaceful dream, however. Above them, there was a hole in the sky that she knew must be the Tear in the Veil.

 “I will show you,” Justice said, and he reached over and touched her arm and she _saw_.

 


	4. Beginning

“Anders,” said Nathaniel, voice unable to hide his shock. “What are you _doing_ here?”

 “Justice,” Anders said, his voice little more than a croak. His face was gaunt, his cheeks little more than hollows under his cheekbones, his eyes weary and tired. His robe hung off of his shoulders like a used burlap sack. Above his head, lightning from the Tear cracked open the sky.

 “Justice brought you _here_?” Nathaniel said.

 “I did,” Anders tried to clarify. “The Song, Nate, I hear it pounding in my ears and resonating in my brain, but Justice will die with me and I can’t--”

 Nathaniel put his hands on Anders’s arms even as his stomach churned with dread. “Your Calling?”

 Anders nodded, and tears slid from his eyes. “And if I take myself, he’ll die with me.” He looked up at the sky and Nathaniel’s heart broke in pieces at the sight of his once-fine skin hanging off of his neck. “Nate, I knew you’d be here. He knew about this Tear, knew the Wardens would be here, and you--”

 “I’m here,” Nathaniel said, pulling Anders into an embrace. His body seemed little more than bones; he was halfway to being a ghoul, and Nathaniel forced himself not to weep. Is this what the Taint did to a body? Would this be his future as well?

 

_“How am I feeling this?” Bethany wondered._

  _“They are my memories too, now,” Justice replied._

 

Anders took long breaths against Nathaniel’s shoulder. Then, a voice not his own, his skin radiating a dim blue light, “You once made me an offer.”

 “A willing host,” Nathaniel said, recognizing Justice and repeating his words from long ago.

 

_“When he met us in the Deep Roads, with you, he was filled with regret for not asking for our merger before Anders did,” Justice said. “He wondered what Anders’s life would have been like, what his own would have been. He thought it his greatest mistake until the end.”_

 

Anders’s voice came again, and he was shaking. “Nate, I can’t ask this--” He choked a sob. “Justice and me, it was frightening, I can’t ask this of you and it’s not right.” Another sob, and he buried his face in Nathaniel’s cloak so that his next words could barely be heard. “But he’s the Spirit of Justice, and what happens if I kill him? I can’t die knowing he’ll die too, no matter how I can’t stand to live with this Song in my head and my blood trying to drive me underground. I need someone to keep him alive, someone he trusts, and that only someone is _you_.”

 “Anders, be calm,” Nathaniel whispered, tangling his fingers in Anders’s hair and kissing the side of his head.

 

_Bethany felt the cooling effect of those words, how they comforted her. “Your memories, too?”_

  _Justice shook his head. “Anders’s.”_

 

“I’ll do it,” Nathaniel said. “I don’t have very long, myself.” He buried his nose in Anders’s hair. “But maybe here at this Tear, I can find a way to get him home.”

 Anders’s whole body shook with what seemed like relief, and Nathaniel held him close to his chest. “I had to find you,” Anders said eventually, his voice hoarse. “I had to see you one more time.”

 “I’m so glad you did,” Nathaniel replied. “I missed your face.”

 Anders snorted. “Not so pretty now, is it?”

 “All that matters is that it’s you.” Nathaniel pulled back, looking at Anders and tucking a strand of filthy hair behind his ear. “What do you need me to do?”

 Anders, always brave ( _and Bethany wondered who thought that, her or Nathaniel or Justice?_ ), met Nathaniel’s gaze. “Remember Kristoff?” Nathaniel nodded. “Justice can leave a corpse, but he can’t leave a living body. At least, he can’t figure out how to leave mine.”

 A chill went down Nathaniel’s spine, and Bethany recognized the cold, hard dread coiling in his stomach. It seemed that all of the muscles in his face clenched when he realized what Anders was asking, the crow’s feet at the corners of his eyelids creasing into hard little lines as he processed this information. When he spoke, his words were barely there. “You want me to kill you.”

 Anders held his gaze, although Nathaniel could see his eyes flicking back and forth, distracted by the Song. “I tried to end it in Kirkwall,” he said. “I thought Hawke was going to kill me, and my time would be done and Justice would be free… but he let me go.” Anders broke eye contact then, looking down at the ground. “I can’t go to the Deep Roads, even if the Song drives me there. I don’t want to die by choking on my own spit in a claustrophobic panic. That just seems wrong, even for me.”

 Anders chuckled despite himself, and Nathaniel smiled.

 They stood in a half-embrace for a long moment. Nathaniel studied Anders’s face, and Anders studied _something_.

 

_“Anders felt unnatural urges because of the Taint and the Song,” Justice explained in Bethany’s ear. “Even then, he wanted nothing but to crawl below the ground, which frightened him more than death.”_

  _“Is this what I have to look forward to in my future as a Warden?” Bethany asked._

  _Justice did not answer._

 

“Anders,” Nathaniel said, jarring him out of his reverie. “This is your choice. How do you want this to happen?”

 Anders bit his lower lip. “I don’t want to be scared, or be hurt.” He sighed. “I know that’s impossible.”

 Nathaniel smiled and stroked his cheek fondly for a long moment, fingertips lingering over his jutting cheekbones. “It isn’t.”

 

_The vision went dark, and Bethany found herself standing next to Justice-Nathaniel-Anders in the Fade again. They were standing alone in a field, the horrific Tear in the Veil above them._

  _“What happened?” Bethany asked, wiping a tear from her eyes._

  _Justice spoke again, and his words sounded like Nathaniel this time. “There are poisons that make a person fall asleep and never wake up.”_

  _She had heard about such things during her time in Kirkwall. “Nathaniel gave one of those to Anders, didn’t he?” she said, filling in the blanks._

  _“Yes,” Justice replied. “Not until after spending as peaceful of a last night together as possible.”_

  _“Was it… was Anders…?” Bethany’s tears kept her from finding the right words._

  _A smile crossed Justice’s face. “He was so happy to be done, to find rest, and to know I was safe with Nathaniel,” he said. “I can’t show this part to you, because it’s--”_

  _“--it’s theirs, I understand,” Bethany interrupted, pressing her handkerchief to her eyes. “I’m glad he found peace.”_

  _“There is a piece of this puzzle that you’re missing, one that answers some of your questions from the letters,” Justice said. “Let me show you what happened when Nathaniel woke.”_


	5. Middle

Nathaniel woke and immediately rolled over in the grass and vomited the contents of his stomach onto the ground. His brain felt strange and mushy, yet everything looked clean and bright in his vision.

 Using his hands as a shovel, he covered his vomit with dust and dirt, then looked at Anders’s lifeless body.

 His beloved was smiling.

 Nathaniel let out one single choked sob, touching Anders’s fine hair with his fingertips. He looked away, tears in his eyes, then dragged Anders’s body to a large rock. Taking the greatest care with Anders’s body, Nathaniel sat him up against the rock, facing the edge of the cliff and looking out over the forest and river below them. These were the areas that the demons hadn’t reached yet, a beautiful valley which he hoped their forces would prevent them from destroying. He arranged Anders’s robes neatly, setting his staff next to his body and leaning up against the rock.

 Nathaniel took out a dagger and sliced off a lock of his own hair, laying it on the ground next to Anders in a funereal offering.

 Single-mindedly, he took out his set of thieves’ tools and, using his hefty pick that he often used on large stone doors in the Deep Roads, he chiseled a message in the rock.

 

_The vision blurred before Bethany’s eyes, focusing when she could read Nathaniel’s message._

  _Here rests Anders, hero of the Mage Revolution, Grey Warden, friend, and lover._

_ Finally free after his long journey. _

  _Underneath, he had taken a shard of the rock and drawn a crude sketch of a cat. Bethany thought of Ser Pounce-a-Lot sleeping on her corporeal lap back at the Keep, wondering if he knew that his old masters were gone._

  _As Nathaniel sat with his back against the opposite side of the stone and closed his eyes, Bethany was transported into a dark place. “His mind,” Justice explained in a whisper. “Our memories.”_

  _She heard thoughts like speaking._

 “Justice, did you make it?” Nathaniel asked.

 His blood flared in his body and he felt a surge of power; lightning in his veins as his vision exploded into a shower of sparks. He felt something running through his body, surging into his fingers and toes, touching his tongue and lips and chin--

 “I am here, Nathaniel,” Justice said in his thoughts.

 Nathaniel opened his eyes, _and Bethany saw him look at his own hands like they were foreign objects_. He spoke into the wind, with no one around to hear him, “So it begins, my friend.”

 In his mind, Justice spoke again, “There is something I have to tell you.”

 Nathaniel, still unaccustomed to speaking in his mind, said out loud, “What is that?”

 “I misspoke,” Justice said, “someone else, someone I brought with me, should tell you this.”

 Something strange happened then -- Nathaniel did not move his hands, but they moved of their own accord. His fingers glowed, not with Justice’s blue Fade-light, but with something else. His awareness slipped, like he was a young boy lost in a daydream, his eyes focused on nothing.

 He felt a different sensation, oddly familiar from years before -- the cool breath of air of a healer’s spell. Nathaniel’s hands were glowing with a gentle green-yellow light of a healing spell.

 “Hello Nate,” Anders said in Nathaniel’s mind.

 

_The scene went still, Nathaniel’s body frozen with the green glow of the healing spell around his hands, and Bethany turned to face Justice. “You brought Anders with you?”_

  _Justice nodded. “I don’t quite know how it happened. When I was in the body of Kristoff, I could sense his memories, but he had been already dead when I… inhabited him. Anders came along with me like that, except all of him was there.”_

  _Bethany reached out to touch Nathaniel’s hand, but she touched nothing but air._

  _“Nathaniel is with me now, too,” Justice added. “Both of them. They are part of the Spirit of Justice now, but I am strengthened by Anders’s vengeance and tenacity, yet tempered by Nathaniel’s mercy and loyalty.”_

  _Bethany looked at him, seeing the earring and Anders’s eyes, but now Nathaniel’s hands and shoulders. “Is that a good thing?” she asked, wondering what this meant for the spirit himself._

  _Justice smiled. “It was a truly rich mortal experience I had, and now, I understand the minds and hearts and actions of mortals. Justice is no longer one-dimensional; Justice is complex and multiple. I am no longer black and white, but shades of grey.” He smiled, and Bethany felt a chill go down her spine. “And perhaps, I am closer to Truth.”_

  



	6. Epilogue

“I swear,” Alistair said as Oghren brought them all another pint of ale, “and you’re not going to believe me, but Velanna will confirm it if she ever comes back from tending to the dead fields underneath the Tear.”

 “Just tell the story,” Bethany said, their knees touching under the table.

 “The demons were taking out the mages and crashing through the ranks of the Wardens, and the problem was that there was something on the other side of the Tear that was helping the demons get through. They needed someone to go stop it, and without hesitating, Nathaniel volunteered.”

 Bethany frowned at him. “How did the mages let someone else go into the Fade? And how did he get past the demons?”

 “That’s what someone tried to tell him,” Alistair said, “but his eyes… his body, he _blazed_ blue and green and scared the demons back, and said that he would go. No one was going to argue with that. And the mages conjured first a big tree, and then a cyclone, and it took him into the air and he was gone.” Alistair shook his head. “It was incredible. He just disappeared, and the demons were angry and pressed their attack. The battle seemed to last forever and we had to hold them to give the Inquisitor time; the next thing we knew we were all knocked off our feet, like when the Archdemon died, and when we woke up, the sky was normal again.”

 “Justice,” Bethany said with a smile. “Nathaniel took Justice home.”

 “Wait, _Justice_?” Alistair stopped mid-drink. “As in that Fade spirit who possessed a corpse for a little while?”

 With a smile, Bethany replied, “Let me tell you the whole story.”

 


End file.
